Broken Souls
by Kasey Clark
Summary: Time changes everything. Set after book 4.
1. Astonishement Beyond Belief

**Chapter 1: Astonishement Beyond Belief**

**A/N: Everything you need to know is in the story, you just have to stick with it.**

A blast of icey cold air swirled around the spacious gallery. The walls, painted a modest white, were covered by dozens of intricate paintings. On the hardwood floor stood scupltures of everything ranging from a petite woman to unidentifiable shapes.

Near the middle of the room, to the right and around the corner of the glass doors beckoning outsiders to enter, a painting of a sandy beach mounted a wall. The girl staring at it was not what most called an admirer. In fact, as she stood amidst the fellow viewers, all she could do was pick out the flaws in the creation before her.

The mixture of colors didn't truly capture the reality of what the artist had seen.

Near the bottom right hand corner of the canvas, where the sand met grass, the paint was smudged from poor blending.

Where the rising sun cast light onto the ocean, the shading was just downright terrible.

The young woman squinted, her thin eyebrows caved inward. How had such a disastorous piece of art make it amongst more beautiful artwork, whose owners had much more talent than the one at hand.

Just as a group of middle aged women passed by, their heels making soft clacking noises as they met the wood, the girl's phone began to ring in her bag.

With a glance at the caller ID, a smirk appeared on her face. The first in many days.

A hit of a button connected to her the person on the other end, and with joy evident in her silky voice, she answered, "Lena speaking."

* * *

The sun was unmerciful. It glared from a cloudless sky and beat on the pavement as if it were punishing all below. Usually a natural lover of outdoors, Bridget believed if she stayed a moment longer, she'd surely die of heat exhaustion.

Unlocking the door to her and her boyfriend's apartment, she sighed with relief as the air conditioner met her face and sent goosebumps down her arms. It should be illegal to be this hot in May, she thought to herself, kicking off her shoes and grabbing a water from the fridge.

Bee debated checking her phone messages, then decided against it. She wasn't in the mood to listen to her old coach at Brown trying his best to get her to volunteer at their summer training camp. Nor did she have the strength to ignore one more reporter begging for an interview.

Crashing on the couch, she turned on the television and began searching for something, anything, to watch. The channels skimmed by without peaking her interest.

Until.

She only caught the end of it. Normally, these kind of things bored her out of her mind, but this time...this time she had seen something remarkable.

A commercial for the annual indie film festival was no big news to Bridget. Living in Sacremento, there were always "annual film festivals." But none like this.

None involving those people.

None that left Bee's mouth agape.

None that froze her in time and caused her water to crash from her hand, making a wet puddle on her floor.

_It can't be. _Her mind screamed. Thoughts weren't coming through as they should. Her brain was unable to sort through anything. She might as well have shut the thing off completely, at least then she wouldn't have to attempt to process everything.

The shutting of a door did nothing to rouse Bee from her daze. Nor did the approachment of her significant other.

"Hey, babe. How was your run?"

Bridget looked up, wide-eyed. She knew the question at hand was concerning her routine jog around the boardwalk, but to her, it was on a completely different scale.

Quietly, she replied, "I think it caught up with me."


	2. Unsettlement

**Chapter Two: Unsettlement**

**

* * *

**

"I want you to change your positioning on that last scene. It looked a bit awkward. Besides, we all know the camera favors your left side."

"No, no, no. Don't change the dialouge. This is an important scene, and it needs to stay true to the script."

"More emotion! I'm not feeling your pain!"

"Cut!"

The sound of sighing could be heard from all around. One of the loudest came from the dashing brunette standing in the middle of a fake set. Her director, a short, stump man of forty, was rubbing his temples fiercely. She wandered, for a split second, if it was possible to rub your skin off, just as cats sometimes did to their furr.

"Carmen, can I speak to you for a minute?" The man asked, standing from his chair and walking over to the girl. It was day 29. The deadline was approaching. Everybody was itching to go back home, spend time with their loved ones, sleep in their own beds. It was beyond the point where the actors forgot their lines, and stumbled to connect with their character.

And yet, Carmen was stuck on a level where she seemed to be nothing more than amature. There had been several times when she had wanted to request her lead role to that of an extra. She knew everybody was depending on her to nail this job, and yet, she seemed to be doing everything but that.

"I'm sorry, Mike. I have no idea what's gotten into me."

The bachelor placed a hand on Carmen's shoulder. "You know how many girls auditioned for this role."

Carmen nodded, "I'm beginning to think you should've picked one of them."

"Carmen, I chose you for a reason. When I saw you onstage, under the lights of Broadway, I knew you'd be the perfect canidate. I want to give you this chance to get your name out there. I want people to know who Carmen Lowell is and what she has to offer."

The female brushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and pondered what she'd just heard. She'd had doubts all along. From the moment she received the call stating Michael Gregory, the famous director, wanted her to star in his next motion picture, she'd questioned if he had mistaken her for someone else. It wasn't that she didn't love acting; she did. She cherished every second she spent in front of a crowd, playing anything from a seventeenth century queen to a modern day fortune teller.

But in the last twenty nine days, Carmen had come to realize that acting in front of a camera was very different than acting on a stage. She always soaked in the bright lights and limited walking space. While the manmade sets were nice, and the ability to act out a scene as many times as desired, until it reached perfection was a plus, Carmen was useless at it.

The most important factor taken away from her, was the one that made her thrive.

She didn't have an audience. She wasn't greeted with thousands of staring faces. She didn't carry the knowledge that there were no re-takes, that she had to get the lines perfect right then.

Her hunger and desire for the job was fullfilled by her ability to see the reactions of her viewers. She didn't need reviews to tell her how she'd done. One look at an expression of a viewer told her everything she needed.

Unfortunately, Carmen had discovered this fact too late. She had made a committement and was forced to see it through, no matter how terrible it was.

"I think I need to take the rest of the day off. Maybe run through the script again. Can I do that?" Carmen hesitated. She knew how much heat Mike was getting for signing off on a newbie like her. The producers were cutting the budget every day, and the critics weren't exactly jumping out of their seats so far.

After a minute's pause, Mike agreed, looking tired and defeated. "Go ahead. I'll skip to the scene with Joey and Eliza. But please, Car, try to do better tomorrow."

When the golf cart dropped her off in front her trailer, Carmen let out a heavy breath. The movie was placed in the back of her mind. All she wanted was to grab her belongings and drive back to her temporary apartment.

Locating her bag, Carmen dug out her phone. Her brand new Sidekick revealed three voice mails and several text messages. _I can't get a moment of peace, anymore._

Dialing the voice mail box, Carmen bit restlessly on her thumb. The first message was from her brother, Ryan, reciting the grades he received on his last report card. The next one was from Claire, a fellow actress, asking Carmen if she audition in an upcoming show.

Carmen had made it to her small Lexus when the last message began to play. With the driver door opened and her body ready to sit down behind the wheel, Carmen let her keys drop unto the concrete.

_"Hi, Carmen. It's me...I just wanted to...How have...Um, just call me back. I mean, if you get the chance. I know you're busy, and I undesrtand if you can't...Uh...Bye."_

How could it be? There must have been a mistake. A wrong call.

No. No, they had said her name. They had distinctly said Carmen.

There was no fault. The message really was for her.

With shaking hands Carmen got in her car and closed the door. She felt as if she should distract herself. Stop trying to put more meaning behind the call than there was. It wasn't as if they were on bad terms. They weren't fighting.

_But we aren't friends anymore, either._

Minutes passed. The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky when Carmen finally mustered up enough strength to turn on the car engine and drive away from the parking lot. The first red light she reached, she grabbed her cell and turned it off. She didn't think she could stand to hear it ring. She believed that by turning off the object that had recorded that fateful voice, she could erase the fact that it had ever occurred.

* * *

"I'm going away for the summer."

Davis looked up from his bowl of Frosted Flakes to stare at his girlfriend of five months. "And where, exactly, are you headed off to?" The news came as no surprise. If he had learnt anything about Bridget Vreeland, it was that she never stayed still.

"Back home."

This did, however, cause Davis to raise his eyebrows. It had been a week since he'd found her sitting in their living room, looking like she'd seen a ghost. Ever since, a shadow had surrounded the girl. She never seemed to concentrate on anything, getting distracted easily. And conversation had been lessoned to nothing more than greetings and goodbyes. This was the first time Bridget had been upbeat since that afternoon.

"Are you sure?"

Bridget's eyes darkened for a second. "Of course I am. I'm going to run a soccer program at Weston, my old high school."

"When'd you decide this?"

"Well, I've just been thinking lately," Bridget grabbed a bowl from the counter and joined him in his cereal. "I mean, I think it's only fair. I should try and give back to my old hometown. Besides, it'd be kind of cool to help have some fellow Bethesda kids become famous."

Davis looked wary. Even in the short five months of knowing Bridget, he knew a few valuable things.

Never hog the sheets.

Always let her grab the shower first.

Make sure there's plenty of ice cream stored in the freezer.

Don't ever bring up her history.

It was the most eminent piece of information he knew, and he made sure to stand by it no matter what.

But there she was throwing it in his face.

"I'll probably be gone until late August. I want to train the kids until the last week before school starts. The more time on the field, the better."

Unsure of what to say, Davis opted for the next best alternative. Silence.

"I ordered my plane ticket last night. I leave on Friday."

"But that's in three days!" Davis had finally found something to reply to.

"I know. But I want to begin on Monday. I've already talked to the coach and he's dealing with sign-ups and all the other little details."

"So you're going to spend the next two and a half months with these kids?"

Bridget frowned. "I'm trying to do some good here, Davis. I'd think, as a boyfriend, you could support me on this."

Davis was weak. He had no backbone, nothing to make him stand up and argue.

And what was worse, Bridget knew that about him.

"I do support you, Bridget. I want to see you happy. And if you think this is it...so be it."

Bridget was still frowning.

"I'll come visit when I can. Maybe weekends, holidays," Davis responded pitifully.

"No." The blonde stated harshly. "Stay here with your job. I need to be by myself on this."

The two stared at each other, fully knowing what that last remark meant for them as a couple.

* * *

**A/N: I looked for the exact name of the high school the four girls went to, but I couldn't come up with anything. So if anyone does, in fact, know, please tell me and I'll fix my mistake.**


	3. Before the Sun Rises

**Chapter 3: Before the Sun Rises**

* * *

It was ten minutes after midnight when Lena Kaligaris finally fell asleep. She hadn't even returned to her empty loft until the night sky was filled with darkness and no respectable girl was out in the streets that late. The female had stayed huddled in the corner of her favorite coffee shop, glancing through a book of poetry she had recently bought. She would have stayed there all night, if the manager had not gently forced her out so he could close up.

Normally on who cherished the comfort of her bed and the warmth of her covers, Lena felt distraught entering her home. That particular night, the high ceiling and lack of furniture seemed to depress her. She wished, as she drifted off into a dreamland, that she had decorated a bit more.

She had fallen in love with the place the moment the owner gave her the walk-through. It was the top story in an apartment complex located in downtown New York, and within walking distance of her studio. There was only two rooms and a bathroom, with the kitchen and living room being one gigantic floor, but Lena didn't mind. The place already came with the necessary kitchen appliances and a stiff red couch made of scratchy material.

Lena had signed the lease papers that same day and had lived there for almost two years. In that long period of time, the only additions she had made to the place were moving in her queen sized bed, a large dresser, a small round kitchen table and matching chairs. She had no need for a desk or a entertainment set. She carried a laptop that she kept on the kitchen table, and television had become more of a distraction than a relaxation aid.

The sound of a car alarm woke Lena. Turning on her side, she looked at her phone and saw only half an hour had passed since she'd fallen asleep.

_Who am I kidding? _

Throwing off the thin sheet she had been burrowed under, Lena left her bed and walked into the main room. She thought about turning on a light, but preferred the darkness.

Making her way over to her computer, she clicked the icon to take her to the internet and waited. Why was she doing this? It made no sense. Just because of that dumb phone call she was shaking her entire world up.

_I must be crazy. _

Without realizing what she had done, the website for a filmmaker's association appeared on her computer screen. Scrolling down the page, Lena confirmed what her caller from earlier that day had told her.

Along the bottom of the page was a list of names of all the people in the elite group.

_I can't do this._

Lena shivered in her thin nightclothes.

_I have to._

Taking one last long look at one of the names, she slammed the notebook shut and stood up.

_Where did I put them?_

Her feet shuffling across the cold floor, Lena tried to remember where she'd kept her suitcases. It had been several months since they'd been in use. Her job required trips only if she consented to them, and with her younger sibling, Effie relocated to Boston, she rarely went anywhere long enough to need such heavy luggage.

After crawling under her dusty bed, the girl found them. Three large, black, rectangular containters, one containing an old receipt, another a musty paperback novel. Sighing, Lena ran a hand through her soft hair. She had never been a rash person. She had always taken things slowly and thought every detail through. But she knew, from the moment she hung up her phone on Bridget, that there was no time to think.

She had to go back home.

Return to Bethesda.

She had to forget her upcoming art show, and put all that behind her.

Her past was calling.

And was being forced, by her inner self, to answer it.


End file.
